


Not Like the Movies

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, pls be careful of reading if intrusive thoughts bother u :0!, tags will be updates as i go !
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Oikawa develops an obsession and quietly unravels.





	Not Like the Movies

**Author's Note:**

> okie, here's a couple of things to know before u start ! i have pure o ocd, and that's what i gave oiks in this fic. i don't speak for everyone with pure o, and this is basically just me projecting lol. i'm going to describe a lot of physical sensations, and injuries and stuff like that. 
> 
> also, i'm trying out a different writing style :0! it's kinda choppy and i tried to incorporate the way oiks' brain works into the writing. let me know what u think !

“I do not understand.”

 

Oikawa curls into himself on the floor of the court, holding back the choking sobs that threaten to come out.

 

He doesn’t have anything witty to say or any snarky comments about how stupid Ushijima is to shoot back. He doesn’t understand either, and that’s why he’s laying here.

 

“I can’t-” he wipes back some tears. “I can’t stand up.”

 

Ushijima’s face is its usual blank slate, but his eyes carry a hint of concern. “I will call Iwaizumi.”

 

 _Finally._ He’ll get to tell Iwaizumi everything and the feelings, the thoughts, the whatever will go away. It’s worked before, it will work now.

 

Oikawa watches as Ushijima walks to his stuff and grabs his phone, shooting the miserable setter concerned looks every now and then.

 

Oikawa wraps his arms around himself tightly to try and calm down, but he can feel that too. Everything feels like _too much_ , like every nerve ending has decided to make itself known at this exact moment. He breathes out a shaky sob. What is he supposed to do?

 

* * *

  
Before

A school counselor had once told Oikawa that mental illnesses often had the power to make one feel like a fish out of water.

  
  
Oikawa had marveled at the genius of the statement, his eight year old brain gratefully accepting anything that could explain how his brain worked. Now, he laughed at the phrase. It is so unmistakably easy to see how much fish suffer when they're left on land, gasping and gaping. No one has ever been able to tell when Oikawa starts floundering.

  
  
An ad for a gory, psychological horror film is hung glaringly on the wall opposite him. Blood, guts, faces frozen in fear, the whole nine yards. There's even a bit of bone sticking out of a girls leg, although this might be his brain's own artistic addition. Horror is stupid, psychological horror especially so. There’s no monsters to make the plot impossible, no aliens to make it otherworldly. Almost anything in a psychological horror _can_ happen, and probably has to some poor person somewhere.

  
  
He scratches at his leg. There’s no blood. No bone. Just the slightly itchy texture of his pants. An image pops into his brain of himself, looking like the people in the poster. Weird. More scratching.

  
  
He thinks of his knee and the bruises he so often sports there. He switches to tapping. Then to rubbing. That seems to work, stops himself from diving headfirst into thoughts of knee injuries.

  
  
His brain calms down long enough for him to whip out his phone. His leg sits unoccupied for a moment, before it starts feeling uncomfortable and exposed. Ghost pain. He starts bouncing it. Better.

  
He starts typing a lengthy message about how stupid movie advertising is, just to get it out of his system. Erases it. Types something simpler, less concerning.

  
  
to: iwa-chan ╰(✧∇✧╰)  7:19 PM  
* ( ’з｀)ﾉ⌒♥*:･。.

  
  
Iwaizumi texts back a second later. Oikawa smiles to himself. Iwaizumi Hajime is known for his reliability. Despite never using his phone for anything besides texting, he never goes without it just in case someone needs him. He texts everyone back in record time, but Oikawa likes to pretend he’s the only one who gets such attention.

  
  
from iwa-chan ╰(✧∇✧╰) 7:19 PM  
gay

  
  
to iwa-chan ╰(✧∇✧╰) 7:19 PM  
did you catch the kiss, iwa-chan?

  
  
from: iwa-chan ╰(✧∇✧╰) 7:20 PM  
always do

  
  
Oikawa feels his face heat up and he smiles down at his phone. What did he do to deserve such a sweet, silly boy?

 

The train stops and the sudden force makes Oikawa push into the person sitting next to him. He smiles his apologizes, turns to make sure the bone in his shoulder is still intact.

 

He stands up. Arms hanging normally at his side, he discreetly makes a middle finger and mentally points it at the horror movie poster. Ha. That’ll show ‘em.

 

He pushes his way through the crowds of people standing about the station, long strides taking him to the supermarket. He takes the crumpled list of items Iwaizumi sent him to get out of his pocket and rehearses it. _Milk. Eggs. Strawberries. Coffee._

 

He grabs the items without trouble and sighs as he eases into an abnormally long check-out line. The man in front of him holds a screaming baby, and Oikawa takes the smallest step backwards. Tap tap tap.

 

He glances lazily around the store, looking for something to occupy the time. There’s the movie poster again. Of course.

 

He sticks his tongue out at it. How popular is this thing? It looks worse the second time. The gore seems bolder, more pronounced. His hands twitch at his side. He starts repeating the grocery list internally once again, and turns so that his back is turned to the poster, hiding it from view. Out of sight, out of mind.

 

_Mik. Eggs. Strawberries. Coffee._

 

_Mik. Eggs. Strawberries. Coffee._

 

_Mik. Eggs. Strawberries. Coffee. Knees that don’t work anymore._

 

Ouch. Oikawa wonders how the last part got in there. More tapping, less listing. He stretches out his leg a little bit, to make sure his knee is still in fact functioning normally. Hm. The tiny shot of pain is probably just his imagination, right?. He focuses all his attention on the stupid, untrustworthy knee, willing it to feel something so he can put the mystery to rest. The knee remains unhelpfully unfeeling.

 

He sighs again, wishes someone familiar was standing next to him. He wants to gossip about the lady in the next line who keeps anxiously twisting the ring around her finger, or make a joke about something silly that happened earlier. He’s tired of being able to think without interruption.

 

The line moves agonizingly slowly, but Oikawa makes it to the finish line eventually. He rushes back to the train station. Makes sure to sit somewhere different than last time, and is now faced with an ad for a children’s cartoon. Lovely, cute, adorable. He focuses on that instead of the nagging feeling that something is wrong.

 

* * *

 

Campus is miraculously and comfortingly free of movie posters. The next few days past without incident, and Oikawa feels less like a fish trying to suck in air and more like a fish stuck making circles in a shallow puddle. A general feeling of impending disaster is there, like always, but it’s nothing serious. Certainly nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.

 

Practice does wonders to change all of this. The anxiety is still present, but the activity turns it into adrenaline. He claps his teammates on the back, praises how hard they’re working. They smile but hide questioning looks behind their eyes and he remembers that not only is he no longer captain, but he’s stuck on the bench too.

 

It pushes him to work harder, and he spends two hours longer in the gym than everyone else.

 

Later, after the manager kicks him out of the gym and tells him to go home, Oikawa wearily drags himself into his and Iwaizumi’s shared apartment. They’d surprised everyone by deciding to live together, especially after choosing different universities, different paths.. Iwaizumi told their friends he couldn’t leave Oikawa alone to brave both college and the National team by himself _and_ expect him to be alive at the end of it all. He was only half joking.

 

He flops on the couch, hugging one of the pillows there. Wait. Why hug a pillow when he has a person to hug instead?

 

“Iwa-chan,” he hums breezily, waiting expectantly for a reply. He gets none, and tries again. Nothing.

 

He groans and pulls himself off the couch. He makes his way through the kitchen, the hallway. Pokes his head into their tiny bedroom. Nada.

 

Finally, he hears the sound of water coming from the bathroom. Smiling, he opens the door.

 

“Iwa-chan, you better not be naked in here~”

 

“Learn to knock, dumbass.” Iwaizumi pokes his head out from behind the shower curtain. Oikawa walks over to give him a quick kiss.

 

Oikawa stands silently in the cramped bathroom, considers something for a moment. He starts clumsily taking his pants off. “Move over Iwa-chan, I’m joining you.”

 

Iwaizumi groans. “Oikawa, not tonight. I’m tired.”

 

Oikawa feigns shock, although the affect is lost as he tries to get his shirt over his head. “Pervy Iwa-chan, always thinking I want something from you. For your information, I only ever have completely innocent things in mind when I decide to get in the shower with you.”

 

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes but disappears back into the shower without another word. Oikawa takes this as an open invitation.

 

He bumps into the wall in his rush to get his shirt off, and Iwaizumi chuckles. He climbs inside, the warm water hitting torso, slowly working the tension out of his muscles.

 

“You stink,”  Iwaizumi wrinkles his nose, and continues washing his hair.

 

“Well it’s a good thing we’re in a shower, isn’t it,” he sticks out his tongue, and reaches for the shampoo.

 

They dance around each other in the cramped space, elbows hitting sides as they attempt to actually clean themselves up.

 

Oikawa eyes his boyfriend, drinking him in. He ghosts his fingers over Iwaizumi's back, over the scratch marks there, and remembers the night before. Yikes. Were his nails really that long? "Did I do that?"

  
  
"Huh?" Iwaizumi turns around to face him. "Oh, yeah."

  
  
Oikawa's face lights up in concern. He imagines raking his nails there again, not in passion, but just for the fun of it. What? He didn’t just think that, did he? He imagines Iwaizumi’s face contorted in pain. _Do it._ He shakes his head as if it can shake the thoughts out.. A familiar guilt pangs in his chest.

 

Iwaizumi notices. He reaches for his hands, kissing the pads of his fingers gently. "It's fine, don't worry 'bout it. You didn’t do it on purpose.”

 

Oikawa smiles apologetically. He leans forward to hide his face in the crook of Iwaizumi’s neck.

 

A weak moment during high school had led Oikawa to tell his best friend about the weird, creepy thoughts he was having. Google called them intrusive thoughts, and suggested he was dealing with Harm OCD. It was stupid. Who was the internet to tell him something was wrong? Everything had gotten better after that, but the  thoughts, ideas, whatever still came back every now and then, especially when there were other stressful things going on.

 

Iwaizumi had made Oikawa promise to tell him if he ever got bad again. Oikawa had promised, truthfully. The next day, full of regret from oversharing, he had promptly changed his definition of bad to something unreachable.

 

“Hey, uh.” Iwaizumi starts. Oikawa hums into his skin. “Speaking of, _that_ , I didn’t do all of these, did I?”

 

Oikawa leans back, his face questioning. “Do what?”

 

Iwaizumi points to the bruises on Oikawa’s neck, thighs, knees, arms.

 

“Oh, _that._ ” Oikawa raises his eyebrows mischievously. “Look at my Iwa-chan, still so pure he can’t say the word _sex._ How cute!”

 

He rolls his eyes and flicks Oikawa’s forehead. “Loser. You literally dropped your phone on your face the other day when I told you I loved you. Shut up and answer the question.”

 

“Your mouth is definitely impressive, Iwa-chan, but I don’t seem to remember it spending the whole time giving me hickeys.”

 

“Then…” Iwaizumi grabs Oikawa’s wrists gently, and turns his arms so that his palms face upward. Bruises line his forearm, and some creep up around long, pale fingers. “Practice?”

 

Oikawa nods.

 

Iwaizumi kisses each wrist, and then releases them gently. “You’re staying home tomorrow.”

 

“What? I’m fine, Iwa-chan.”

 

“Yeah, okay. You’re still staying home.”

 

“I can’t just _stay home_. The Olympics-”

 

“Three years away.”

 

“I’m on the bench!”

 

“A day of practice won’t change that. You can stay home.”

 

“Ushiwaka-”

 

“You can handle Ushiwaka.”

 

Oikawa frowns. He can’t really think of any other reasons to stay home, except that staying home is impossible. Not when Ushiwaka, or Bokuto, and everyone else will be at the gym picking up extra practice time on their day off.

 

He can’t think of anything to say, so he doesn’t say anything at all. He flashes Iwaizumi a look, finishes rinsing out his hair, and then turns the water off. A still very soapy Iwaizumi has the nerve to laugh. _Laugh_.

 

He storms out of the shower, trying valiantly not to look ridiculous doing so. Fuck practice, fuck the bench, fuck arms that bruise too easily. And especially fuck Iwai-. Well, no. Not him. But still, fuck him.

 

He slams the door of their bedroom and angrily pulls on clothes. There’s a knock on the door. Oikawa ignores it.

 

“Tooru, come on.”

 

Ignored. Blocked. Reported. Whatever the meme is. Oikawa climbs into bed. Grabs his phone, sets an alarm for the morning. 8 is a good time to go to the gym, right?

 

He closes his eyes for a moment being deciding he’s too annoyed to sleep. The door opens, and Oikawa turns to face the wall, listens as Iwaizumi gets dressed for bed.

 

Iwaizumi climbs over him to get to his side of the bed. Oikawa closes his eyes again, does his best to compose his features so he looks like he’s sleeping. He waits for the inevitable “you’re an idiot, Shittykawa” but the silence simply streches on. Oikawa opens an eye curiously.

 

Iwaizumi is staring at him. This isn’t unusual, necessarily. But Iwaizumi is staring at him like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. It’s unnerving.

 

“Stop that.”

 

Iwaizumi smiles, and his eyes light up with even more love and admiration than before. Very unnerving.

 

“You’re gay. Stop.”

 

Iwaizumi searches blindy under the covers for a moment before taking Oikawa’s hands in his own. “I love you.”

 

Oikawa narrows his eyes suspiciously. “I’m going to the gym tomorrow.”

 

Iwaizumi chuckles and kisses his boyfriend’s hands. “Are you now?”

 

“You’re making fun of me.”

 

“You know,” Iwaizumi ignores him, and Oikawa huffs. “if you go to the gym, I’m going to be here all by myself all day. Do you think Makki’s free? I should call him.”

 

Oikawa frowns. “You’re staying here?”

 

Iwaizumi grins dorkily. Like he knows he’s won. Stupid Iwa-chan. “Mhm.”

 

Oikawa tries to remember the last time they had a full day together, one uninterrupted by class or volleyball or work or responsibility. He can’t. “You’re mean to me.”

  
This earns him more smiles. Such a sweet, smiley boy. Iwaizumi gives him a quick kiss before turning over on his side. Oikawa burrows down into the blankets. He supposes skipping _one_ day won’t hurt. And then he’ll get to rub his lovely, perfect day with his lovely, perfect boyfriend in Ushiwaka’s stupid face. He smiles despite himself, and goes to turn off his alarms.


End file.
